I Can't Live If Living is Without You
by dawneh
Summary: Life without Craig seems unthinkable to John Paul


"I don't love you... it's as simple as that... I never did... it was just sex, that's all it was."

"But you said..."

"I said a lot of things, it doesn't make them all true. For gods sake John Paul grow up... I would have said anything to keep you quiet... you were my secret... my DIRTY little secret and I'm ashamed that anyone found out about us."

"You don't mean that."

John Paul's soft blue eyes were filled with tears he couldn't believe the words coming from Craig's mouth, the venom in his voice and the look in his deep brown eyes.

John Paul had seen love in those eyes before, he had even seen hate and disgust but this was different. Craig's eyes were empty, devoid of anything at all, as if any feelings that he had ever professed to have for John Paul had died.

"Craig please..." John Paul's voice was low and shook with broken emotions.

"I never loved you John Paul... I'm sorry that you thought I did... but what we had between us... it meant nothing to me..."

Craig grabbed his bag and shoved his way past the shattered body of his one-time lover. John Paul staggered back as Craig's shoulder smashed into him. And then he was gone.

---

John Paul had hardly left his room in five days. He lay quietly on his bed, not sleeping or eating and not even crying, not any longer. He had wept. He had cried so long and hard that he thought he may never stop but in the end the tears dried leaving him a worn out husk.

Myra had tried her best to coax her only son from his depression but in the end she had no option but to leave him to grieve, the loss of his relationship cut into him as deeply as any death.

John Paul could still hear Craig's bitter words echoing in his head. "I don't love you... it was just sex..." they repeated over and over in his mind until his head pounded with the pain.

The two aspirin John Paul had taken 30 minutes ago hadn't touched the raging ache inside his brain and as he reached for two more, washing them down with the last drops of water in his glass, John Paul saw the solution to his pain, the answer that would take it away.

The house was empty as John Paul rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. The pharmaceutical companies might have the sense to limit the number of tablets in a single bottle, but they didn't count on a household like the McQueen's. When you had that many women together in one house there was always a good supply of pain relief. John Paul pulled a variety of packets from the cabinet with a frenzied passion.

A trip to the kitchen saw him return to his room laden with cold cans of lager. Packet after packet of aspirin, paracetamol or ibuprofen was washed down with the pleasant chill of the lager.

John Paul wasn't sure if it was the numbing effects of the alcohol or the tablets that began to relax him but he fell back against his pillow as the first feather touch of peace he had felt in days began to descend on him.

---

Myra had promised herself that she would leave John Paul alone until he was ready to talk. But when she returned from shopping something gnawed at her insides making her rush to his room to check on him.

John Paul's hand hung over the bed; an opened can of lager had fallen from his grip and spilled onto the floor. His skin looked deathly pale and, noticing empty boxes scattered around, him Myra let out a piercing scream.

Russ was at her side in seconds, talking in the scene in John Paul's bedroom he rushed to the young man's side feeling frantically for a pulse.

"Call an ambulance," Russ yelled, "He's still with us... call an ambulance..."

John Paul didn't hear the commotion around him, he didn't feel himself being lifted onto the stretcher and get carried from his room. Nor did he hear the beep of his mobile phone as it announced the arrival of a text message.

---

John Paul's throat felt raw with a raging pain as he awoke. His eyes flickered open to take in the stark white tiles of the ceiling. He frowned with incomprehension. Turning his head to the side he saw the worried face of his mother next to him, her eyes were pink and swollen as if she had been crying but, as soon as she saw he was awake a smile broke across her face.

Leaning over him she peppered his face with kisses.

"How are you feeling?" She asked with a gentle motherly concern.

"What happened?" John Paul croaked around his hoarse throat.

"They had to pump your stomach, oh John Paul I was so worried, you've got to promise me you'll never do that again…"

The memories slowly filtered back into John Paul's mind. The tablets, the alcohol and the sharp cutting pain of Craig's words. He felt the ache returning to his chest. He had come so close to silencing Craig's hurtful remarks and to ending the pain. How could he promise he wouldn't do it again when he had found no other way to stop the agony that wouldn't go away?

John Paul closed his eyes and feigned sleep until Myra, content that her son was going to be OK, felt able to finally leave his side.

---

John Paul sighed in relief as the counsellor left his bedside. He was certain that he had managed to convince them he regretted his actions and they had finally agreed to let him go home.

He felt a shot of guilt wash over him as he looked at his mother. That he could do this to her, that he could even consider making her suffer in this way was almost inconceivable. But only almost.

---

His bedroom had been straightened and the bed was covered with fresh linen. John Paul fell back against the softness of his own pillow. He stared for a while at the familiar cracks of his bedroom ceiling before doing the one thing he knew he shouldn't. He reached into the draw of his bedside cabinet and pulled out the photograph.

They had been so happy. No, they had seemed so happy. But it had been a lie; every smile, every kiss and every declaration of love was nothing more than a lie and a betrayal.

Laying the picture down on the cabinet John Paul caught his mobile phone and knocked it to the floor. Picking it up he noticed that the battery had run down. In a reflex action, rather than with any conscious thought that he might need it, John Paul plugged the phone into its charger.

Within seconds the display was alight and the symbol of a text message flashed in the corner.

Pressing "read" John Paul's breath caught as Craig's name became illuminated before him. His hands shook as he stared at the 5 letters. He couldn't face any more hurt but at the same time he didn't have the strength to hit delete.

The words of Craig's message opened up before him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I thought leaving would be easier if you hated me but it isn't. Please forgive me. I love you. I always loved you."

John Paul hardly felt the tears that ran down his cheeks. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime the pain in his chest was gone. His eyes lingered at the bottom of Craig's message. The time and date were roughly when he had been told they took him into hospital. It was almost as if Craig had known and has felt the need to reach out to him.

John Paul felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Craig Dean might be miles away, he might never see the man again but that didn't matter. Craig loved him. What they had shared wasn't a lie and John Paul realised that knowing that was enough.

He hit reply on his phone and keyed in a brief message.

"Sorry I've not replied, been busy. Love you too. Always. x"

Craig never responded to that text and John Paul didn't expect him to. More than that he didn't need him to.


End file.
